


Three Knocks On Hard Wood

by wildewings



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Marriage Proposal, but also not it's kinda fun, hopefully it's fun, i'm sorry that he is, sylvain's struggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29217684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildewings/pseuds/wildewings
Summary: When they were children, the proposal had been a joke. Ingrid had laughed it off the way Sylvain had, and neither of them had given it a second thought. When they were teenagers, the proposal had been a theatre play. The second they had come out of their costumes, it had been forgotten. But now they are adults, and Sylvain has no idea how to ask Ingrid to marry him, because the only way he knows how is to fake it.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 15
Collections: Sylvgrid Big Bang





	1. Act One

There had been a stillness to this town Sylvain had walked so many times. Whispers, stolen looks, grey clouds hanging over towers and houses without a single drop of rain. The ashes of war still covered Fhirdiad in a blanket of fear and uncertainty - a victory for Faerghus it may had been, but the price had been paid in blood. But then, the newly crowned king announced he was to marry none other than the archbishop of the church of Seiros, Byleth Eisner. And all of a sudden Fhirdiad grew alive again; excited laughter and idle chatter filled the streets, rays of sunshine carried with them the promise of a grand ceremony. In the span of two months, Sylvain had seen Fhirdiad breathe again, only to find himself drowning in wedding preparations. So when some time got cleared off Dimitri’s impossible schedule at last, the redhead almost dragged him down to the tavern, along with a smiling Dedue, and a reluctant Felix holding onto Ashe’s hand.

“Sylvain”, Dimitri tried to protest, “I still have to…”

“Come on, Your Majesty. This might just be the last time we can get a boys’ night before we marry you off to the professor.”

“I get your point, I do, but isn’t it a little irresponsible to do this now ?”

“If not now then when ?”

To Sylvain’s absolute delight, Dimitri couldn’t answer him. There was something strangely satisfying about rendering an all-powerful king utterly speechless. He had done so countless times in their childhood, a few in their teenage years. Doing it as an adult, after having been through hell and back in his service, reminded Sylvain of years he thought were lost. It turned out they were simply very well hidden, and one could find them anytime as long as they looked hard enough. Sylvain, Dimitri, Ingrid and Felix: they had all understood that, and decided to move forward, even though one of them was still making it a point to hide it.

“What am I even doing here”, Felix grumbled.

“Ashe. Puppy eyes. Now.”

“Oh, Sylvain, if Felix doesn’t want to be here maybe we should let him go home…”

_Bingo_. The second his boyfriend opened his mouth, Felix closed his and sat down next to him with the loudest groan. He also gave Sylvain one of his deadliest glares - he hadn’t given him a single break ever since Ashe and him had gotten together, and was growing impatient for revenge. A revenge that possibly and most likely involved swords, which was why Sylvain had made sure of Ashe’s presence.

“Your Majesty. It will do you some good to take a break.”

“You too, Dedue ?”

“Should you refuse to rest even a little, I will have to report it to the professor.”

“You wouldn’t !”

Sylvain drank to that, and to every other sentence after this one. To his surprise, Felix joined him, and so did Ashe and Dedue. Only Dimitri seemed hesitant to drink too much, but it didn’t matter either way. He was much more relaxed now, laughing at Sylvain’s bad jokes and sordid anecdotes, listening intently to Ashe, asking Felix about a rare blade he had acquired the week before…

“Oh, you should show it to Ingrid”, Sylvain remarked. “She’s been talking my ear off about it.”

“Has she now.”

“Imagine being in a nice café with a pretty woman, and all she talks about is weapons, weapons maintenance, and weapon training.”

“What else would you expect out of a date with Ingrid, though ?”

“I don’t know, Ashe. She even wore a dress for this, so I thought maybe we would talk about… China sets, or uh, the weather, or…”

“Sounds boring to me”, Felix snorted. “Why would you want to talk about china sets with Ingrid ? All she cares about is what’s on the plates, not the plates themselves.”

“That’s one thing that never changes”, Dimitri chuckled. “Oh, Sylvain, do you remember Ingrid’s ninth birthday ?”

“I remember birthdays, but I got no idea if any of them’s the ninth, Your Majesty.”

Dimitri blinked once in bewilderment, then twice. What was it about this memory that was so important ? This one seemed to escape him. And he was looking for it, looking for it hard, because judging by Felix’s face on top of Dimitri’s, that had been something _big_. The Duke of Fraldarius looked both disgusted and furious.

“Sylvain. You freaking moron.”

“No swearing”, Ashe frowned.

“Sylvain, you complete moron.”

He turned around to get a quick peck on the cheek from Ashe, before going back to staring at Sylvain as though he was a bug squashed on his favourite sword.

“You proposed to her on that day.”

“I did ?”

“Yeah.”

“I really did ?”

“Yes !” Dimitri exclaimed. “You did ! Twice !”

“Twice ? What did I do that twice for ?”

“She didn’t hear you the first time.”

“What did she say ?”

“What do you think she said”, Felix groaned.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”

Sylvain would have laughed at the disgusted look on Felix’s face, or at Dimitri’s obvious concern hadn’t he been busy trying to remember just what Ingrid had said to that. But it wasn’t like it was something important anyway was it ? They’d have been nine and eleven. Kids. Fetuses even. Proposals made at eleven rarely held any kind of meaning, did they ? Did they. It had probably been a joke.

“She laughed, didn’t she ?”

Now, the redhead was starting to miss the animosity between the king and Felix, because both his childhood friends exchanged an exasperated glance. Even Dedue buried his face in his hands as if to say, “oh, Sylvain”. Ashe was worse. Ashe said it out loud.

“How do you even know about that ?”

“Ingrid told me”, Ashe shrugged.

_Ingrid told me_. Those were three simple words that should not have made Sylvain’s heart skip a beat. Things like “I love you”, “please marry me”, now those were three words that could, and were meant to take a hold of the heart and freeze it in its tracks. This childish joke was different.

Because, if Ingrid had told Ashe, it might just have been important. And he had forgotten it. The silver-haired archer must have felt Sylvain’s unease however, and quickly recovered with a smile.

“Do you need us to remind you ?”

“I’m not sure you can wound my pride much further at this point, Ashe. Lay it on me.”

“Can I start”, Felix said, with a smile on his face that reminded Sylvain of a shark. Not that he had ever seen a real shark. He’d just heard the stories.

“That was not a challenge, Felix.”

“You can start”, Dimitri nodded.

The young king’s amused smile did not escape Sylvain’s watchful eye - he was enjoying this. _Fair enough_ , Sylvain sighed, remembering how he used to make fun of him for being painfully awkward in matters of love. To think he would be the first of them to get married…

“Well, it was on Ingrid’s ninth birthday. We’d all met up at the Galatea estate. Father had me and Glenn bring her this frilly, extravagant dress as a present.”

Everyone made a face at these words. Ingrid and frilly outfits ? Surely Lord Rodrigue had known better…

“For your information, we did try to tell him she’d hate it. He didn’t want to hear a word of it. Something about young lords gifting young ladies pretty clothes. Anyway. Once we got there and Ingrid opened her presents, she tried her best to act pleased. This is when Dimitri had the good idea to tell her…”

“Oh goodness”, the blonde sighed as he buried his face in his hands. “I had forgotten that part.”

“That’s why I wanted to start.”

“How lovely of you, Felix.”

Another shark smile from the Duke of Fraldarius. He was out for blood.

“Would you like to tell us yourself, then ?”

“I might as well…” He took a deep breath, cheeks growing a little redder by the second. “I said she looked like a bride after she put it on.”

“Aw, how cute, Your Majesty !” Sylvain chuckled. “I didn’t remember you having a little crush on our Ingrid.”

“I did not ! It was a simple observation. But after my thoughtless remark, well… She told me she didn’t want to be a bride, but rather a knight. Which is when you, Sylvain, intervened.”

“Wait, I proposed… Like this ?”

“Oh, no. You stopped her from getting mad at Dimitri.”

Now this, this did ring a bell. Ingrid didn’t often get into arguments with the young prince back then. She had been a stubborn little thing, and he a soft enough one as to not provoke her wrath.

“Was this the time His Majesty hid behind Glenn and I, and Ingrid started chasing him all around the two of us ?”

“So he does remember”, Felix snorted. “Yes. It was.”

“How do you remember this but not proposing to her”, Ashe sighed.

“Hey, you didn’t have to babysit His Majesty, Ingrid _and_ Felix alright.”

“If you can even call that babysitting…” the latter muttered under his breath.

Sylvain did take offense at this, even though he tried not to show it too much. He had been a child too back then ! So what if he had, occasionally, let the three of them play with swords ?!… Which most definitely had nothing to do with all of them growing up to be weirdly enthusiastic about deadly weapons !

“Anyway, what happened next is, Dimitri was so sorry he started crying. So, to try and calm Ingrid down you said she could be both a bride and a knight.”

“Ingrid in a wedding dress, lance in hand. Yeah, I can see that”, Ashe giggled.

Sylvain could too. Sylvain saw it so clearly, and it was so perfect, he had to actively fight a blush from creeping up his face. All the while, the other four men around the table - _et tu, Dedue ?_ Sylvain thought - kept joking about how she would probably use a sword to cut a wedding cake. This did not help the redhead at all. The more he thought about it, the more he realised he wanted to see it happen. It wasn’t that the courting hadn’t been going well. They had tried to follow the usual rules; an attempt at going back to normal after this seemingly endless war. And Sylvain did know that he would, someday, very much like to be Ingrid’s husband. _Ingrid’s husband_. Now this had the nicest ring to it.

“Sylvain ? Sylvain, are you still listening ?” Dimitri waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Uh, yes. Sorry about that.”

“Geez. And we’re telling this story for you”, Felix groaned. “Anyway, you added that if she married you, then she would get to be both, no problem.”

This did make Sylvain’s cheeks flare up. He hoped he could pretend it was because of the alcohol, so he drank once more. What a dork he had been. Who even proposed on the spot for something like this ? In simple jest, on top of it. Oh, how Sylvain had grown. Marriage had gone from being a complete joke, to a promise of a bleak future as some noble’s puppet, to... He cursed his friends for even putting the idea of Ingrid as a bride in his head.

“Do you still not remember what she said ?” Dedue asked.

“Nope. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright. I don’t know either.”

_Thank the goddess for Dedue Molinaro_ , Sylvain silently prayed. At least, the story would be new to someone else. Both Dimitri and Ashe shrugged at the future margrave’s relieved expression. Meanwhile, Felix outright rolled his eyes.

“She said, ‘then you’re the only one I want to marry’”, Dimitri sighed at last. “I cannot believe you’ve forgotten that.”

“Wait, what ? But she said it as a joke, right ? I wouldn’t have forgotten otherwise… It’s not like me.”

It really wasn’t. He gave Felix a look at these words, and got a nod in response. Of course Felix would know.

“Yeah, she was just joking. Glenn was right there, after all. Heh. Maybe she was trying to make him jealous.”

“Did it work ?”

“Depends. What would you call laughing and messing up your hair ?”

“Just Glenn things”, Sylvain chuckled. “Just… Glenn things.”

He, Felix and Dimitri all took a silent sip at these words. Their two companions followed. Unbeknownst to any of them was the sudden storm taking over Sylvain’s mind.

_Would she even take it seriously if I proposed ?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi !! I hope you've enjoyed this first part of Three Knocks On Hard Wood. This fic is part of the Sylvgrid Big Bang project - it was SO MUCH fun to work on this, and I hope you'll go check out everyone else's fics, and also the wonderful art Licornia made for this fic !! It's so adorable, I'm not going to recover from this ever gdhjkfh  
> https://twitter.com/vestariares/status/1357702946717319172?s=20
> 
> I do hope I could do Sylvain and Ingrid justice in this, and that you'll have fun reading !!
> 
> And if you wanna catch me on twitter, do look up @wilde_arts !


	2. Act Two

One truth about Ingrid was that she didn’t like Fhirdiad very much. As beautiful as this town was, she found it to be too fussy, too courteous. “Lady Ingrid”, “Miss Galatea”, “milady” - all of them names she had grown accustomed to against her will.

So when Dorothea invited her to a café that was just below the city walls and far away from the castle, what she felt was nothing short of infinite gratitude. Upon reaching the agreed upon place, she noticed the brunette was accompanied by Annette and Mercedes, as well as Yuri.

“Ingrid !” Dorothea greeted her when she spotted her.

The blonde grimaced a little, but thankfully, no one recognised her. The chances were slim, but still. She let out a fond little sigh as she joined her friends, sitting between Dorothea and Annette.

“What did I tell you about me wanting to lay low…”

“Oh, come on Ingie. You’ll be fine here.”

“Most folks in this part of town haven’t even heard of House Galatea before”, Yuri smirked. “Don’t you look absolutely radiant.”

In normal times, she would have taken offense at the sarcasm. But she had seen her look in the mirror that morning: Ingrid looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but if she confessed to that, her friends would simply drag her back to her quarters, and she would then be assaulted by tailors begging her to pick fabrics for her dresses. Plural, because for some convoluted reason, she was expecting to wear at least three over the course of the week-long festivities.

“Stop being so mean, Yuri.”

Annette looked about ready to smack the young man behind the head, but stopped herself last minute. Mercedes simply watched over the chaos with a little chuckle.

“You haven’t had a minute to yourself, have you ?” she smiled, as gentle as ever. She even put a stray strand of hair back behind the knight’s ear.

“His Majesty is doing his best with the wedding preparations… As his maid of honour, it is only natural for me to do the same.”

“You and Dedue should still ask him to give you a break sometimes”, Dorothea pouted. “For my precious Ingrid to look this worn out…”

“Oh, um…”

“Let me guess”, Yuri interrupted. “You and the big man have been running yourselves ragged even though His Majesty is begging you two to rest.”

“He’s not. He knows he isn’t in a place to tell us that.”

“This boy is far too kind”, Mercedes chuckled.

“Mercie ! You can’t call him a boy ! I mean… This is our king we’re talking about !”

“His Majesty won’t mind, I’m sure”, Ingrid laughed. “Etiquette was never his favourite thing, remember ?”

She, Annette and Mercedes chatted some more about their old Garreg Mach days. Without the three ladies noticing at all, Dorothea and Yuri ordered for all of them an impressive set of pastries accompanied by tea, served in refined and yet not too gaudy sets of china. It reminded Ingrid of that awkward date she had had with Sylvain about a week earlier. He had tried a comment about the small and intricately decorated plates. Now, noble upbringing or not, Ingrid was not the type of person to pay attention to where the porcelain came from. Her mind had instead been filled with thoughts of rare blades, of royal weddings; and so she had brushed it off with a clumsy chuckle.

It was only after getting back to her quarters that she told herself, _oh, Ingrid_.

“The order of the day”, Yuri cleared his throat after they all got a sip of tea, “is a new favourite project of ours. By ‘ours’, I mean Mercie, Thea and I.”

“Oh, oh ! Mercie’s been hinting at something for a while, but I have _no_ idea what this is”, Annette excitedly said, as she fussed around with her piece of pie.

“Your opinion would be most welcome.”

There was a glint in Mercedes’s kind eyes that looked a little too much like mischief in Ingrid’s opinion, but she nodded nevertheless. The priestess had been left in charge of the monastery along with Seteth while the newly appointed archbishop kept herself busy with the upcoming ceremony - whatever it was she had been preparing with Dorothea and Yuri, she was almost certain it involved Garreg Mach.

“See, while you guys have been helping out picking napkins and floral arrangements-”

“Quit it with the sass”, Ingrid groaned. “I’d switch places with you any time.”

“- The three of us have been taking care of the Garreg Mach kids. You know, the war orphans.”

“Didn’t you want to head back to Enbarr though, Dorothea ?” Annette asked.

“I would have, but Hapi, Coco and Baltie ditched Yuri-bird here, and I just couldn’t leave him alone.”

“Don’t trust a word this woman says. She is definitely not doing this out of the kindness of her heart.”

This time, Annette actually smacked him behind the head, which brought a smile to Ingrid’s lips. She had forgotten just how chaotic tea with these four could get, and yet would never trade this for anything else.

“Anyhow”, Dorothea started again, only dodging the sugar cube Annette threw at Yuri by a hair’s width. “We thought about putting on a play for the children.”

“A play ? Which one ?”

Ingrid’s eyes sparkled bright enough to lighten the entire room. While novels were her reading of choice, she also quite enjoyed theatre. She and Sylvain had even planned on going a while ago, but they got caught up in more duties than they had imagined - and offered their seats to Ashe and Felix.

“I hear you know that one pretty well, Ingie”, Yuri chuckled. “It’s named Lily of the Valley. Ring a bell ?”

Of course it did. Lily of the Valley, aside from being the name of a flower, had been one of Ingrid’s favourite plays when she was younger. A story about a lady turned knight, on a quest to bring a single flower to her bed-ridden brother. On her way, she meets a villager shunned by his pairs, and after she saves his life, he proclaims himself her page. By the end, the two of them get a hold of the flower, and hurry back to her brother’s side only to find him back on his feet and welcoming them with his arms wide open. He thanks them for the flower, but refuses it as he can now go find it himself. The page then uses it to propose to the knight, whose named is revealed to be Lily…

“Oh, it definitely does”, Annette squealed, barely able to stay still on her seat. “I remember all the excitement when the Professor announced we were doing a play…”

“It was quite a success, too !” Mercedes added. “Ingrid, you were beautiful playing as Lily.”

“It was a three days long struggle to get you to put on some makeup for the show, though.”

“I stand by my words. Lily would not have had the time to put on makeup.”

“Wasn’t the face Sylvain made when he saw you on stage worth it ?”

“He thought I was ridiculous.”

“He thought you were gorgeous ! Even an actor as good as him couldn’t hide his ugly blush.”

“Ugly blush ? It was just very hot that day, Annette, remember ?”

The redhead’s answer was cut short by Dorothea’s intervention. She handed the ex-Blue Lions a stack of papers each, and explained how she wanted their insights on the project. Flipping through the pages, Ingrid found they had tweaked a few things around, added some roles and erased a few others… While it was a slight deviation from the original text, she found herself appreciating it. The page’s role was more defined; she wondered how Sylvain would feel now if he had to play him again ?

“Didn’t he like the original page ? He did pull it off perfectly, though.”

“Hm, he complained a little about his character being too shallow… And now that I’m reading your new script, I realise he may have been right. I like this version of Ellis more”, Ingrid smiled. “This is excellent work.”

“Right ? He was fun to work with.”

“Yuri-bird rewrote his entire role, but still won’t play it”, Dorothea sighed. “Ferdie volunteered instead.”

“The great Ferdinand von Aegir, playing a page ?!”

They all had a fond laugh at the idea. Their friend was bold, enthusiastic. Ellis was a discreet character, an observer. There lied the main difficulty in playing his role: he was, after all, a main character and the actor portraying him had to make sure he stood out just enough.

“Oh, you didn’t touch the proposal scene at all ?” Annette’s nose almost disappeared between the pages. “I get it. It’s such a sweet scene, after all. I remember how Sylvain was shaking during the play. He really nailed it.”

“He was ?”

“Ingrid ! He was kneeling right in front of you, holding out the flower to you. How could you not see it ?!”

“I must have been too focused on my own lines…”

“Geez, Ingrid. I can’t believe you two went from this to courting.”

Calling it “courting” in her head and with Sylvain was one thing, but hearing Annette say it out loud was another. Red started creeping up her cheeks, and she tried to hide behind her ridiculously small cup of tea. Which was empty anyway.

“Just imagine if he proposed to you like Ellis did !” Dorothea cleared her throat. “My lady fair, I am but a lowly page-”

“He is no page”, Ingrid muttered as Yuri filled her cup again.

“-I am but a lowly margrave”, the songstress corrected, “and one with status such as mine could not dream… Could not dare dream of ever speaking these words. And yet I find myself in such a need to confess - my lady fair, Lily of the Valley…”

“Speak no more, Ellis”, Ingrid found herself saying against her will. “Speak not a word.”

“I’m impressed you still remember your lines”, Mercedes said.

“I read them in the script… And I really like this scene, I admit.”

The merry little group ended up discussing this new version of Lily of the Valley all afternoon, with new propositions here and there from Annette and Ingrid. Yet it was agreed that the proposal scene would remain untouched.

“It’s perfect as is”, Yuri nodded. “Besides, I feel like it’d be an insult to Ingie.”

“An insult to me ? How so ?”

“It is the first time Sylvain ever proposed to you, isn’t it ?”

What ensued was pure chaos; a mess that almost got the five of them kicked out of the salon. Dorothea snorted loud enough for Annette to start shaking in repressed laughter. In an attempt to hide her tears behind her clumsy hands, she spilled her tea on Mercedes’s lap. The latter was fortunate enough that the tea hadn’t been boiling hot, but jumped from her seat in surprise nevertheless. Her chair then hit Yuri, who slipped from his own and landed right at Dorothea’s feet. The songstress couldn’t help but snort again, all the while Ingrid sat there, her face burning as bright and red as a million suns.

“Dorothea”, she groaned, drawing out each syllable. “What did we say about keeping secrets ? And you too, Annette.”

“I didn’t tell him, I promise ! And besides, Mercie knows too, and you’re not angry at her !”

“Because Mercedes wouldn’t have gone and told Yuri !”

“Wait, what ?” Yuri exclaimed. The lavender-haired young man painstakingly sat back on his chair. “Did he…”

“He didn’t propose to me recently, no.”

“Then what is this about ?”

The four women exchanged a look, that Ingrid was aware the mockingbird didn’t appreciate at all. _I suppose the cat is out of the bag anyway…_ She proceeded to tell him about how Sylvain had proposed to her once before, when they had been children.

“It was just to get me to calm down… To joke around. And besides, we were children, so it’s not that important. I don’t think he remembers it, even. And that’s fine. I am just very fond of this memory, that’s all.”

“Because it was the first time he proposed to you”, Dorothea teased. “This story is so sweet.”

“Not exactly.” She shifted awkwardly on her seat, playing with the longer strands of her golden hair. “It’s because it was the first time I was proposed to as something other than just a Galatea daughter with a crest. It has always stayed in the back of my mind because of that… Every time I received new marriage proposals I thought, can this person make me both a knight and a bride ? And the answer was always no, so I always said no.”

If she had managed to fool the others, it didn’t really show - but it was true, all of it was true... Only that it was one part of the truth. These few words Sylvain had said that day, they had been so much more important than she made them to be. They had let her believe in herself, in her dream. And even if he had only been joking, or trying to calm her down, when she answered he was the only one she would want to marry… Oh, how ironic this was, that it would end up becoming true.

“And admitting he proposed right about now, what would your answer be ?”

“Huh ? Yuri ! Don’t go and say things like this… I-It’s too early anyway.”

“Early ? You’ve been friends since you were children.”

“Yes, that’s the point I’m trying to make. We’ve been friends. Not… Romantically involved friends.”

Yuri seemed about to say something, but stopped himself last minute. Had it been on any other matter, Ingrid would have begged him to finish that thought. This topic, this day, they felt different. _Rationalise, Ingrid. Be reasonable. Still your heart…_ What a silly thing love was; she had spent so many years turning down marriage proposals left and right, and yet now she wanted nothing more than to dream of one. Some time ago now, His Majesty had told her of how he had proposed to the archbishop. It had been personal, unique. This moment had been theirs and theirs only. And true enough, that childhood proposal, that had been unique. It would forever remain a treasured memory, a glimmer of hope she had held onto - but not in the hopes that she would someday marry Sylvain, no. In the hopes that she would someday marry someone who would see her as Ingrid Brandl Galatea and none other. She hadn’t often thought that these two things could be the same… She had not thought of it at all. They had been children, they had been best friends. And then there had been this stage proposal. Those had been words from someone else. It had been a time that belonged to other people and their own story. So yes, perhaps Ingrid wanted to dream of a proposal that was hers and Sylvain’s. Yet as fearless as she could be on the field of battle, as daring as she was once she held a lance in her hands, there were fears that could not be fought off with steel. _Don’t you dare dream too much. Dreams are only worth the hope you put in them, and the pain you feel when they don’t come true._ She, of all people, knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've seen Sylvain struggle in part 1, and now I guess it's Ingrid's turn ! Also, some gen goodness, because we all love it when friends bicker endlessly. Thank you so much for reading and see you in part 3 !


	3. Act Three

“Don’t dream so much, Sylvain. It’ll only hurt more when she says no.”

“Sir ?”

“Oh, Sylvain José Gautier, you are an idiot. You are an _idiot_.”

“Milord ? May I do something for you ?”

“On the other hand, she likes that idiot. Right ? She does. Right ?”

“Milord, if you are not going to buy anything, would you please kindly leave my shop ?”

It wasn’t until the store clerk waved her hand in front of the young margrave’s eyes that he was anchored right back to reality. Emeralds and rubies and sapphires sparkled behind the display window, all of them adorning intricate silver or golden rings. How he even had ended up there was beyond him. He had managed to sneak out of Felix and Ashe’s dress trials, seeing as his childhood friend had been busy barking at the poor tailor for picking the wrong fabric for his boyfriend’s outfit. And since most royal wedding preparations were now up to the Fhirdiad castle staff, he had decided to take a stroll around town.

Somehow, his stroll had turned into a quest for the perfect wedding ring he would never propose with.

“Ah, my bad ! I’m so sorry, I was…”

“Thinking aloud, milord. And very loudly, might I add.”

“Aren’t you one chatty shopkeep.”

Had any other noble - and from the king’s personal entourage, nonetheless - spoken these words to a jeweller, the latter would not have wasted a second in bowing down at their feet in a profusion of apologies. Sylvain was a different case. He was approachable, sympathetic. The retort sounded like a compliment, and the jeweller gobbled it all up.

“One must, if one has to understand what exactly it is that her clients need.”

“Hmm. Well then, tell me. What do you think I need ?”

“Advice from a friend, milord.”

“Ah but you see, my friends are all quite busy at the moment. One of them is getting married soon.”

“How curious. The date they picked is so very close to His Majesty’s wedding to the archbishop.”

“I know, right ? And yet, they simply would not budge. But you know, it made me think…”

He stopped himself with a sigh. Wouldn’t he be better off keeping these thoughts to himself ? He didn’t want to start unsavoury rumours. “Margrave Gautier is about to propose” - oh, he could not let this spread out in Fhirdiad. Dimitri dreamt, and worked towards his dream of a Faerghus free of the domination of crests, but the poor man had only been king for a few months. If the word got out now that the crest-bearing heir of Gautier was thinking of marriage, he would still be surrounded by droning crowds in an instant.

“Nevermind that. My apologies for wasting your time.”

Stepping out of the shop, he felt a sudden wave of loneliness overcome him. That royal wedding truly had gotten into his head… Ingrid was by all means the woman of his dreams. She was his best friend, she was the one who knew best what it meant to bear the burden of a crest in Faerghus nobility. She had a smile that made the sun feel dim in comparison and a laugh he swore he could get drunk off. So why would someone as good and bright as her bother with him ? And yet, oh yet - Sylvain had never been much of an optimist, not a genuine one at the very least, and yet he couldn’t help but think, why wouldn’t she ? What if he took that leap of faith, and she chose to take it with him ? _Stupid, stupid Sylvain. You don’t even know how to express yourself without making it sound like a joke. You look for words inside your head, but they always belong to someone else. You fight honesty with deceit and deceit with more deceit. But we’ve been courting - isn’t that what it means ? Isn’t it the next natural step ? Do we want to follow a natural order of things ?_ _Does_ Ingrid _want to follow a natural order of things ?_ After all, she had spent her life defying expectations. From lady to knight, from daughter to soldier. From warrior to bride...? A wedding dress and a lance in hand, Ashe had said. The image haunted him for the rest of the evening, and the day after... and the day after that, all the way until the king’s wedding.

It had been everything one would expect. The new queen wore the most beautiful dress, its bodice decorated with the Crest of Flames. The king looked as kings should look. Regal, and yet warm; had Sylvain paid attention, he would have seen on his old friend’s face the giddiest of smiles. But while all eyes were fixed on the royal couple, he could only stare at the knight standing on the bride’s side. Ingrid’s hair had been arranged with small, white flowers shaped like bells. Thin ribbons and star-shaped silver pins held them, the green silk bringing out the emerald of her eyes. And her gown... A more childish, less aware version of himself would have seen standing there a princess. But he was a little wiser now, a little more observant: she would much rather have worn a suit of armour than a taffetas dress, even if Sylvain wanted to worship her more at this exact moment than he had ever wanted to worship the goddess Herself. Her eyes kept darting around, her fingers tugging on the edge of her large mousseline cuffs. “How will I protect His Majesty and Lady Byleth if imperial partisans suddenly show up ?”, Sylvain could read on her troubled face. There was no need for such worry though. Dedue had made sure that the palace security would be at its highest during the celebrations, and if it came down to it, he knew that the sword at Felix’s side was anything but ceremonial. And when her gaze landed on him at last, he sent her way a wink and a reassuring smile - he loved how her cheeks immediately flushed, how she responded him with a look that meant, “is it that obvious ?”. He would have tried to hide a playful grin if Ashe hadn’t elbowed him in the ribs.

“You two can court after that”, the silver-haired archer whispered behind gritted teeth.

“Come on, you’re the only one who’s noticed.”

“He’s not”, Felix hissed.

“He’s not”, Dedue sighed.

And on the other side of the aisle, Annette shook her head while Mercedes mouthed the words, “he’s not”. Thankfully, all eyes were still on Byleth and Dimitri. No one else in the crowd could have noticed, could they ?

*

“Next time you two start flirting at my wedding, try to be a little more… discreet ?”

So. The queen had seen them. Ingrid should have known that nothing could escape her watchful gaze; she had seen that woman throw a piece of chalk at a younger and chattier Sylvain even though he had made sure to sit in her blind spot.

“Hopefully you will not have another wedding, Your Majesty.”

“Hm. Well said, Gautier. Off you go, you two. I’ll see you at the Blue Lions’ party, yes ?”

“Absolutely”, they answered in chorus.

“See you tonight, Professor”, Sylvain added with a wink. Ingrid elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. She looked about ready to run him through with a lance, and was starting to seriously consider it. “Sorry. Old habits. Won’t do it again.”

“Out of my sight before I have you off the guest list.”

With one last respectful bow that visibly sent shivers down Byleth’s spine, the two took their leave. As they walked down the palace’s busy halls, Ingrid realised this was the first time in a while that they had the chance to talk, to just be the two of them… And she had no idea where to start, what to say.

“So”, she said anyway. _Oh, Ingrid._ “That ceremony. Beautiful, huh ?”

“I know, right ? I mean, how are we mere mortals even going to top that ?”

“Huh ?”

She instantly hated the sound that escaped her throat - who was this little girl and her high-pitched little huh’s ? Not Ingrid Brandl Galatea, that’s who. _Come on, Ingrid. Keep it together._

“Um, after all, Felix and Ashe are next, right ? They’re gonna have a hard time making it as impressive as this.”

“Not that they’re expected to”, she sighed in relief. Right. He was talking about these two, not about them. Silly Yuri and Dorothea and Annette and Mercedes putting ideas inside her head. “I overheard Hilda call it the wedding of the century.”

“And she sure was right.”

The way he rubbed the nape of his neck, the way he stuck his other hand in his pocket… He was feeling just as awkward and out of place as she did. Did all that marriage talk make him uneasy ? Maybe it made him anxious, even.

Well, not anxious enough not to take her hand gloved hand in his as they reached the castle’s great gates. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Shall I see you on the morrow, milady ? When the sun is highest, and its rays shine on thee; let us ride out…”

“Sylvain.”

“Too much ?”

“You can say you want us to go on a walk normally, you know. Also, we’ll see each other at the party tonight.”

“Don’t you like this play, though ?”

“You don’t have to quote Lily of the Valley’s Act III, scene 7 to me.”

He chuckled in response, helping her climb into her carriage with a wink. Other nobles were too busy exchanging excited impressions about the wedding to notice the heirs of Gautier and Galatea courting right there under their noses - the Fhirdiad nobility, missing on gossip ? Now this was a miracle Ingrid was grateful for.

“I could always quote Act IV, scene 10.”

She didn’t get a chance to answer that; he disappeared in the distance as her coach headed back to the Galatea’s Fhirdiad pavillon.

_My lady fair, I am but a lowly page…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smooth, Gautier. Smooth.  
> Either that or he's a disaster. Bit of both, I'd say.


	4. Act Four

Sylvain didn’t really get why Ingrid would even need a carriage when the Galatea residence was within walking distance, but he supposed her father must have decided to spare no expense for the royals’ wedding. That dress alone must have cost a fortune. Ah, yes, thinking about his crush’s financial situation - a perfect way to forget how much of an absolute fool he had just made of himself. Laughing about having a ceremony on par with the king’s ? Referencing Ellis’s proposal ? Trying to ignore the fact that a tiny velvet box waited impatient in his pocket for him to gather his thoughts and stop turning his feelings into a joke ? ... So he had bought a ring, yes. The day just before. All the marriage talk had simply gotten into his head and would not get out. He had run back to the jewellery shop a mere twelve minutes before it closed, had stumbled upon his words and ridiculed himself, and picked a white gold, emerald and diamond ring with no idea if he would ever have the guts to use it. And while he stood there mumbling to himself, he didn’t even notice Felix, Annette and Dedue staring at him with the most exasperated expressions on their faces.

“Pathetic”, Felix groaned when Sylvain saw them at last and tried to hide his distress behind a grin.

“We’ve been standing here for like, ten minutes”, the red-headed mage coughed.

“I should warn you, Sylvain. Felix has been talking about stabbing you.”

“That’s what he gets for being a clown.”

“Please don’t stab me.”

“Just ask her already ! It’s not like you haven’t done that before, right ?”

Annette only realised her blunder when all three men turned to her, a blush creeping up on Sylvain’s cheeks.

“I-I obviously meant our school play.”

“Nice recovery, but you kind of blew it the second you covered your mouth.” He chuckled at his friend’s antics; poor thing was starting to panic… He was. He was the poor thing. So it had been important enough for Ingrid to tell Annette as well, huh ? _Don’t panic, Sylvain._ “It’s fine, it’s not like it was anything that big anyway.”

“Why are you like this ?”

To everyone’s surprise, the one who blurted out these words was Dedue. Even Felix looked impressed, as though Dedue had snatched the words right out of his mouth.

“I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

“In this childhood story Felix and His Majesty told, you were only joking around, right ?”

“I mean, yes. Glenn was right there.”

“You say you forgot because you thought it was unimportant.”

“You forgot that ?!” Annette screeched.

“It’s not like it was that serious, right ? We were just kids !”

“Sylvain might be an idiot”, Felix intervened, “but not the type of idiot to forget what really matters to him.”

“Aww, thanks Fe !”

“Call me Fe again and I’ll stab you for real.”

“People, I’m trying to listen to Dedue !” The light punch Annette sent Felix’s way didn’t even make her friend budge. “No stabbing until he’s done !”

“I was about done anyway.”

“Dedue, I am begging you to keep talking.”

“Please do not beg. I am a simple servant.”

“You’re the king’s right hand. As far as I’m concerned, your standing is higher than mine. So please, Dedue ? Can you finish that thought that Felix and Sylvain so rudely interrupted ?”

The latter tried to come up with a witty retort, but was met with a glare before he could even open his mouth. Annette Fantine Dominic could truly be terrifying when she wanted to - and she hadn’t even started casting spells.

“I simply believe the reason why Sylvain forgot isn’t that it was unimportant.”

“That’s a double negative, I’m having trouble following.”

“And now he’s stalling.” Felix’s growl sounded like an angry dog’s. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he is an idiot after all.”

“Do the math, Sylvain”, Annette added with a sigh. When it started to look like he wasn’t going to, she spoke again. “What Dedue means is that… Maybe you forgot because you wanted to.”

“Why would I want to…”

His mouth closed shut of its own. Why would he want to forget the day he made Ingrid smile and believe in her dream ? Even as friends, there was nothing Sylvain had treasured more than Ingrid’s happiness. Felix was right; he wouldn’t have forgotten something as precious and important as this… The four of them, they had dug up so many memories ever since the war had ended - there was a reason why this particular story had remained buried, and Sylvain only realised now that he had meant to keep it buried. Eleven years old Sylvain had made it a joke, because Glenn was there, and Ingrid loved Glenn. Nineteen years old Sylvain had made it a play… And then, every Sylvain after that had tried to turn it into something trivial, something meaningless, because Glenn wasn’t there and Ingrid loved Glenn still. And Sylvain did too. How disrespectful it would have been, to swoop in and fall in love with his old friend’s fiancée. But then the war had come and gone; he had seen her fight tooth and nail for her country, he had seen her cry in relief when the war had been over at last, he had seen her turn around and smile this smile that meant, “let’s give ourselves this chance”… And even then, he’d kept this memory as far as possible, because he didn’t dare hope for more.

_And this was never mine to decide._

“...ain. Sylvain !”

“Huh ?”

Annette waved a piece of white cloth in front of his eyes. Funny, she was all blurry. With what was meant to be a grateful chuckle, but came out as a disgraceful sob, he took the handkerchief and wiped his tears. It was a strange thing to cry in that moment. It felt as though an immense burden had just been lifted off his shoulders, only to be replaced by another. And its weight rested in Ingrid’s hands.

“I know what I have to do.”

“Thank the goddess.”

“I’m going to throw away this ring.”

“You bought a ring ?!”

“You moron.”

“Did nothing get through to you at all ?”

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. You bought a ring !”

“Relax, guys ! Ouch, Annette, stop hitting me, I was joking ! Joking !”

“You have to stop doing these things ! No more hiding your feelings behind humour, Sylvain !”

“Please stop hitting me ! I still have to look at least presentable for our party !”

“The party. Oh goddess, the party. I’ve gotta go, I have to change ! You two”, she pointed at Felix and Dedue, “make sure he doesn’t do something stupid. Please ? Please.”

“Alright, fine.” Felix rolled his eyes. “You go get your nose powdered and whatnot.”

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius, talk to me like this again and I’ll obliterate you.”

“Fine, swamp beast.”

“I’m telling Ashe you lied about not liking cats because you were scared that if you got one, he’d like the cat more than he likes you.”

“What-”

“See you later !”

And she took off like a storm, leaving a very embarrassed Felix behind her while Sylvain and even Dedue tried to hide their laughter. It didn’t last long however; the swordsman shot his childhood friend a deadly glare, and grabbed him by the shoulders. He was half-expecting him to start shaking him around, but Felix seemed to decide against it last minute.

“Just propose to her. And do it properly this time. Do it honestly.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Yes you do, you just need a little motivation to do it.”

“Please don’t take out your sword and tell me, ‘how’s that for a little motivation’. I’ll laugh.”

If anything, Felix looked offended.

“Say, Dedue. Do you think holding your axe over his head would work as ‘a little motivation’ ?”

“I don’t see how it wouldn’t, Felix.”

“Okay, I’ll admit, this is a little scary, but you know what’s scarier ?”

“What.”

“Me getting down on one knee in front of Ingrid, and her saying no.”

“She won’t say no.”

“Double negative again.”

“Stop stalling ! Just… You know you want this. You want this so badly you started crying like a baby around five minutes ago. Damnit, I didn’t want to say something cheesy, but… Believe in that dream a little, and believe in Ingrid more than that.”

He mentally patted himself on the back for not answering “well, that sure was cheesy” - Felix would have cut him into pieces. Very tiny pieces. And besides, he was right. It was embarrassing to be given life lessons, let alone relationship advice from Felix of all people, but he was right. If there was one person he could, and wanted to believe in from the bottom of his heart, it was Ingrid. And the reason for that was awfully simple.

“I love her.”

A warm hand on his shoulder; an encouraging smile from Dedue, and an exasperated one from Felix. If Dimitri had been there instead of greeting a thousand a one guests, his smile would have been the reassuring kind. With that overwhelming support, there only was one thing left to do, wasn’t there ?

The rest of the afternoon felt like a blur. He forgot to go back to his own place to change, so he still wore the same outfit - except it was now wrinkled from Annette punching him, and Felix grabbing him by the shoulders so tightly he thought he had felt his nails through the fabric. Instead he had spent his time wandering around the castle grounds, playing with the small box in his pocket, wondering just how it would be received. When would he propose, how would he do it... All questions he had no answer to at the moment. And before he knew it, it was time for the Blue Lions’ party already. Sure, most of them would already be attending various feasts throughout the week. Felix for instance would spend most of his time meeting with the top brass of the current Faerghus nobility, as the newly appointed Duke of Fraldarius. Sylvain and Ingrid were expected to appear at at least half of these dinners, seeing as they both held titles of nobility. Annette would have some more free time; barons and baronets weren’t typically seen by the side of a king, but the queen had insisted she be there. That left Mercedes, Ashe and Dedue out of the loop, which was when she came up with the idea of a Blue Lions only party, to replace their botched reunion in 1185 with a true celebration of happiness. It would be much less grandiloquent than everything else, and that only made it even more personal. After having almost lost his way through the castle’s corridors, Sylvain found the small - by a palace’s standards - salon where the party was just getting started.

“There he is”, Mercedes greeted him with her usual warm smile. “Sylvain, would you happen to know where our happy couple went ?”

“Huh ? Oh, uh, sorry Mercie, I didn’t… Hear that.”

He truly hadn’t. Not because of the cello player tugging at his strings at the back of the room, or even Annette’s excited chatter. He hadn’t heard, because he hadn’t been listening. He had been to busy staring at Ingrid.

She had changed, alright. While her hair had remained the same, that gorgeous and yet awkward dress was gone. Instead she wore a suit - not a suit of armour, a suit of the finest and whitest silk, embroidered with gold and green. The same mousseline that had been sewed onto her dress’s sleeves spread below her waist like a cape, and she wore high-waisted pants adorned with similar patterns at the bottom.

 _How cliché_ , he thought to himself when his heart skipped a beat. _But I don’t want to get out of that cliché._

“I was wondering if you’d seen His Majesty… Ah, Dimitri and the professor… Should we call her by name now ?”

Her question snapped him out of his trance, and his gaze left her for an entire minute to focus on his friend.

“That would be weird, but I think she’d like it. You should try.”

“We should try”, the nun corrected. “While at the monastery, I have to call her Lady Byleth, but here… We’re all friends here.”

“Yeah, we are. It’s nice we get to do this.”

“Isn’t it ? And now, I will let you go.”

“What ?”

She gave him a chuckle and a wink, of all things. He never should have taught her how to wink. And as she walked away, he heard footsteps behind him, and he knew he could have recognised those anywhere, even if she wore different shoes.

“You look like you went through hell”, Ingrid teased. “Your clothes are all crinkled. What happened ?”

*

_Breathe, Ingrid. Breathe._ She wanted to tug at her sleeves, readjust her pants, mess with her hair. She knew it was risky to come in looking like this. The minute Ingrid had told her about this party, Dorothea had seen it as an opportunity to dress her up in a way that would never be acceptable by anyone other than her friends. She had used her savings to get her a tailor-made suit, and had done her makeup herself all the while bickering with Yuri about which lipstick fit her better. And although Ingrid already felt much more at ease like this, she dreaded Sylvain’s reaction, so she had chosen to open the conversation on his clothes instead.

“Had a little run-in with a storm.”

“A what now ?”

“A storm. The tiny, orange kind ?”

“You got into an argument with Annette.”

“I’m so glad we’re on the same page. Speaking of… You look great.”

His voice had shaken a little; maybe he didn’t like it and was only telling her that to make her happy. Her lips thinned, and she gave him a simple nod before she noticed - his ears had reddened. _Oh_. She’d have to treat Dorothea and Yuri after all.

“Thank you. I thought, um… Since we’re only between friends…”

“That was a good thought. You look amazing. Great. Uh.”

He paused. He blushed. He was adorable and Ingrid hadn’t seen him act this cute in a long, long time. A few months, at the very least, and it felt like an eternity.

“Sylvain ?”

“Huh ?”

His voice was way higher than usual, too. Oh, he was so cute, and Ingrid’s cheeks were starting to feel warm too. Did she really make him that nervous ? Had she done something bad ? … It couldn’t be that bad, he hadn’t started joking around yet. He was instead being strangely silent. Maybe he was just tired from a long day; if he hadn’t even gone home to change, Ingrid suspected he might have been caught up in a discussion with some count or another. A count that could very well have been her own father, but the thought was too embarrassing to bear.

“Let’s go check the buffet.”

“Now that’s a language we both can speak.”

“Don’t you dare think you have a bigger appetite than me.”

“Is that even something we should be competing on…?”

She laughed this time, and before she could even think, her hand went for his and she dragged him all he way to the heart of the party. It was an unusual one; instead of being seated, the guests stood around, chatting without a care in the world. The table at the centre had been dressed to be elegant and not gaudy, and it swarmed with courses of all kinds. In a strange way, it felt like being back at Garreg Mach - golden days filled with laughter, before everything started going sideways. She looked over to Sylvain as he picked some Airmid pike, and she herself started piling up various dishes onto her plate. She had been thinking all day about that move Sylvain pulled, and it had shown on her face. Dorothea had told her to face the music and ask him about it, but this was so much easier said than done. So instead, she chose to act as natural as she could with him. She was not going to get her hopes up, she was not going to dream of this, she was… She was thinking about it again, and she was blushing, and since she couldn’t very well get out to go and practice some, she did the only logical thing. She piled up more food onto her plate.

“Someone’s hungry”, Sylvain remarked.

“Gautier’s cooks will just have to step up.”

And now she was the one joking around. _I can’t believe being Sylvain is contagious_.

“Next time I visit, I mean. If… If it’s alright for me to visit ?”

“Since when is it not”, he laughed in response.

Truth to be told, it had been a long while since Ingrid had last set foot on Gautier territory. The place wasn’t exactly children-friendly; first, there had been Miklan’s overbearing presence that scared all of them off, and second, its proximity to the Sreng border made it a more dangerous place than the Galatea or Fraldarius estates. And even then, playdates usually wound up in Fhirdiad, since they couldn’t very well move the future king around too much. Being the lady of such a sad place… She would make it a happy one. When it happened. If it happened. And it would most definitely not be happening now, she thought as she tried to finish eating as quickly as possible. Meat and vegetables alike simply disappeared from her plate one after the other; although she was still careful not to stain her precious, white costume.

“Gautier has been pretty depressing lately, you know. Having some sunshine in there would be nice.”

“Pray to the goddess, then.” One bite of a sweet bun, another of some venison.

“I meant you.”

“I know.” She didn’t. More venison, more vegetables, more tension. “Flowers”, she finally managed to blurt out after a solid three minutes of eating in silence.

“Flowers ?”

“In Gautier. Flowers would be nice.”

She wondered what kind of flowers could acclimate themselves to the harsh weather up north. Would delicate plants like lilies of the valley grow there ? No, it probably wouldn’t. Perhaps they could set up a greenhouse, like in the monastery. They could grow more varieties of vegetables there too, to help feed the people… But these thoughts were not hers to think, as they belonged to the lady of Gautier, and she just wasn’t it.

“We could ask Dedue to help out”, Sylvain suggested as he put some seafood onto her plate. “Gardening’s kind of his thing.”

“Or, he could teach us. I don’t believe one second I have that much of a green thumb, but it could be interesting.”

“Ingrid with a shovel in hand rather than a blade ? Now that, I’m curious to see.”

“It’s still a deadly enough weapon.”

To be seen as a woman, as a knight, and as a lady all at once - Sylvain’s laugh felt like the winter sun, and damn it, she was melting. Damn it all. Fine, Ingrid wanted this. It was highly irregular, but she wanted to get down on one knee and ask him to marry her. And to be completely honest, had she had a ring at the moment, she might just have. Ever since this… Courting had begun, she had been filled with doubt. Would it even work to be in a relationship with your best friend ? Would it be strange, would it change much ? Well, things had changed. Her dream had come true, and she needed to chase after another now. A dream of a life with someone she loved, and she didn’t even dare dream it. But since when had Ingrid been anything but daring ? She was brave, she could even be reckless, she was emptying her plate again at alarming speed, and sure she had been scared of loss before but she had never been scared of having anything… Let alone the love of someone she loved back. And she was about to say something, anything to fill that strange silence between the two of them, when she heard it.

“I have to marry her”, Sylvain blurted out.

His gaze was fixed onto the somehow perfectly clean plate in her hand, and what was without doubt the most dumbfounded expression she had ever made.

*

This one was not meant to get out of his head. It was supposed to have stayed in there, without making any noise. He had been so busy contemplating her and her cute face and the light in her eyes whenever she ate something she liked, on top of the mental image of the two of them planting flowers in Gautier, that he hadn’t even realised the words had escaped. And now he was looking at an adorable sauce stain at the corner of her mouth, thinking about how exactly he was going to get himself out of this one. But hey, maybe he wouldn’t have to ! Maybe she hadn’t heard him and he could go back to being a pining, emotionally confused redhead ! This was not how he wanted to do this. This was not how he should be doing this. Ingrid deserved better, Ingrid deserved something romantic and elegant and beautiful, not whatever this had been… Clumsy, silly, awkward.

“What did you just say ?”

She’d heard him. Oh goddess, she had heard him. Goodbye, pining and emotionally confused redhead. Now he could be a pining and distraught redhead instead.

“Something !”

“Something.”

“Something.”

“Sylvain.”

“Yeah ?”

“Please. Please say it again.”

“It’s better if I don’t.”

“I promise you, it’s better if you do.”

Earnest Ingrid and her honest, straightforward eyes. He couldn’t resist those. “Believe in that dream a little, and believe in Ingrid more than that”, Felix had said. He could feel his sharp eyes on his back… Actually, he could feel many, many eyes on his back. He had almost forgotten they were at a party, and half of their friends seemed to think that they were the main attraction tonight. The other half ? They had visibly been told to stare at the two of them in the most insistant of ways.

“Um, Ingrid ? Maybe we should, uh… Go talk somewhere el-”

“Yes.”

“Great ! We could go on the balcony. Or in the gardens. Or as far away from prying, curious little lion cubs as possible.”

“Not our fault you’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

“I meant yes to the other thing”, Ingrid coughed, her cheeks flushed at Felix’s remark.

And now his heart was skipping beats.

“The… Other thing ?”

“Yes, Sylvain. Yes.”

He was certain by now that he was only alive out of sheer anxiety. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears, but couldn’t feel his heart in his chest. Perhaps it had already jumped out and landed right at Ingrid’s feet - that was preposterous, because she had had it all along. And because she held it in her hands, he knew she hadn’t broken it.

“Yes…?” Even his own voice had stopped sounding real. “Yes ?”

“Do you have to repeat it again to believe in it ?”

“Yes ?”

“I can’t tell if you’re answering me or not.”

“Did you really… Do you really…”

“Yes”, she said again, her tone firm.

Time slowed down when he saw her hand move, reaching out for his face; and then it went too fast, because all of a sudden, her palm was on his cheek. He melted in that touch without meaning to; he didn’t even hear their friends swooning and squealing at the two of them. His mind was filled with thoughts so messy that he doubted they could even be called thoughts. They were sobs, of pure happiness; sobs that got out of his head too when he took her other hand, and pressed his lips against her knuckles.

“You’re not as good with words as you think, Sylvain.”

More sobs, more white noise in his head - he got down on one knee, to the rest of the Lions’ absolute delight, and reached into his pocket. The little velvet box now felt so familiar in his hand, it was strange to get it out of there, to open it for everyone to see.

“Maybe I’m better with actions, after all. Ingrid Brandl Galatea… Will you-”

He never got to finish this sentence. The doors to the dining room opened wide to a king and queen of Faerghus that looked like they had just walked through a storm. A storm of nobles, to be more specific, who must have swarmed around them like vultures the second they stepped out of the ceremonial hall.

“We’re finally here”, Byleth exclaimed loudly, letting herself slide against a wall. “What did we miss ?”

“Quite a lot it seems, my beloved”, Dimitri remarked. His smile was radiant, despite the obvious fatigue. How could it not, Sylvain realised. This was without doubt the best day of his life, and he was ending it with two of his childhood friends proposing to one another. “Quite a lot.”

A pause. Sylvain was still kneeling on the ground. Ingrid’s eyes had stayed fixed on the ring. Everyone else seemed to be wondering whether to scream or cry in frustration. And as always, Felix did the goddess’s work.

“Well, get the hell on with it already !”

“Please just ask her”, Ashe begged. “Please. I can’t bear more of Felix complaining about the two of you.”

“Serves him right !”

Annette’s exclamation was immediately followed by more bickering, more of Ashe and Dedue trying to calm them down - to the point where no one was even paying attention to Sylvain and Ingrid anymore. And so amidst the chaos, just loud enough for the two of them to hear while Byleth purposefully joined in poking fun at Felix…

“Ingrid Brandl Galatea. Will you marry me ?”

And all of a sudden these words, that so many people before had said and repeated, became theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: “The three knocks”, or “les trois coups”, is a French theatre tradition. Before each play, someone will hit the hard wood of the stage with a stick called the brigadier, first in nine rapid strikes to get the public’s attention, and then three slower strikes.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading until the end ! I hope you've enjoyed getting there as much as I have, and a happy Sylvgrid Big Bang to you !


End file.
